Monday morning came, and I woke up at 8 a.m. to put the Cytotec pills up my vagina. The Cytotec was to help dilate my cervix. Graciously, I fell back asleep until noon, when I got ready to go to the hospital. I was to check in at 12:30 for my 2:30 surgery.
Damian drove us to the hospital, I advised him to bring his schoolbooks with him to study while he waited, though I don't know how much studying he was able to get done. During the drive, Damian put The National on for us to listen to. On a good day, The National makes me feel somber, but for today, it was the perfect backdrop for the heartache I was experiencing.
I checked in with Surgery Check-In, and the woman put a name band on my wrist. Upstairs we went to the 5th floor--the same floor I had all my prenatal appts on--and I grabbed the phone from the wall to let them know that I was there. They said someone would be out to get me shortly.
Damian and I had a seat in the waiting area, and someone came and talked to me for a minute, though about what, I do not remember. Still in so much shock. Either she or another person came and led me back, while Damian was to wait.
I was shown my "stall," and given a gown to change into. No underwear, socks, or bra, just the gown. The nurse chatted with me a little bit about nursing stuff. She tried to get an IV, but blew the first one. "It's the nurse curse!" she said. She then started an IV in my right hand. In the meantime, a young girl came up from the lab to draw my blood. 12 tubes total, most to be sent out for testing.
Another nurse came and introduced herself. I could tell she was trying to hold back tears, which made me feel better, knowing that someone appreciated the sorrow of the situation. She gave me a miniature baby blanket and cap, explaining that they don't like any of their mothers to leave empty-handed. She said I could take them into the OR if I wanted.
They brought Damian in for a little bit. They asked us what we wanted done with the remains. We chose to have the hospital take care of them, and we were told our baby would be buried at Littleton Cemetery. It felt so nice to know that there would be a place we could go to visit our baby.
The nurse was giving me a bag of Lactated Ringers, as well as an IV antibiotic.
The nurse anesthetist came by to introduce himself, and the anesthesiologist introduced himself in person. Many people asked me when was the last time I had any food or drink. The anesthesiologist explained that they would be intubating me, because given how far along my pregnancy was, sometimes the uterus can push up on the stomach, and they wanted to make sure I didn't aspirate.
Dr. Adelberg came in. She talked about pain, but I don't remember much else besides that.
The girl from the lab came back up, turns out there were 2 more labs that needed to be collected, so my blood had to be drawn again. Make that 14 tubes total.
I remember crying off and on throughout all the rigamarole of various people introducing themselves to me and asking me questions.
Finally, it was time to go to the OR. Clutching the bundle holding the baby blanket and cap in my hand, I was wheeled into the OR on a gurney. It was so cold in the OR. I hopped down from the gurney and up onto the operating table. I remember my hand hurting as I was moving due to the IV. I didn't want to mess up the IV, so I moved as gingerly as I could. On the operating table, clutching the bundle in my left hand, they strapped my left arm down. The anesthesiologist started giving me the anesthesia, so I was already out before they finished strapping down my right arm.
The next thing I remember, I'm waking up in PACU. I felt a huge gush from between my legs. I had to go to the bathroom, probably due to all the IV fluids they gave me. I was instructed that I could wipe, but not to flush, because the nurse needed to see it. I went pee, and when I stood up I looked inside the toilet bowl, and nearly passed out from all of the blood. The nurse told me everything looked great, no clots. She then proceeded to give me the worst pair of disposable mesh panties with a gigantic pad. I crawled back up onto my gurney, as I struggled to come to completely. I asked when I could go home. They said I needed to eat and drink something first. I asked when I could see Damian. They said they'd go get him.
They moved me back to my original "stall" that I started in at the beginning of the day, and I voraciously wolfed down on some peanut butter ritz crackers. Damian came in. I never thought I'd be so happy to see him in my life. I changed back into my clothes, and I was taken down in a wheelchair while Damian got the car.
I got in the car, and started crying immediately. Tears of sorrow, yet also tears of relief. Just so glad to have it done with. I was no longer pregnant with either a live or dead baby. My body could begin to heal and return to normal.
On the way home, we stopped at the pharmacy to pick up my pain meds. They know me quite well at this pharmacy, as I seem to have to stop there at least every week to pick up this psych med or that psych med. The pharmacy tech looked at my belly and asked "Oh, are you pregnant?"
Crestfallen, I said "Not anymore. I miscarried and had to have surgery today, that's why I'm picking up Percocet." The look on his face, his jaw dropped...
I didn't need the Percocet. Not for physical pain, anyway. Surprisingly, there was very little. Still, I took my 6 Percocet because they helped me with my emotional pain.
Something that was only just beginning...
